


What if

by Anchan (Anchan_thevolleyballplayer)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hopeful Ending, I am probably overreacting with the tags, Jealousy, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sad with a Happy Ending, but it's sad and I usually don't do sad so take it with a grain of salt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/pseuds/Anchan
Summary: What if it isn’t?What if there is no line, just darkness blinding Minho’s eyes that he’s scared to step forward?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just some impulsive sads... I am sorry that the first story of 2021 is a vent fic
> 
> also, it's not beta-read

It’s… not easy to approach. 

Because it requires Jisung to stop in track and _listen,_ to focus entirely on Minho instead of thrumming around - and that makes Minho nervous. Having the undivided attention, seeing the innocent smile bubble up to Jisung’s lips and being too aware of the words that sit heavy on his tongue. 

It has never been easy, but at least it wasn’t as complicated. 

Back then, it was just them - among everyone else, in the midst of debut preparations, then at the beginning of a new journey. It’s more than _just them_ now, with six other people sharing every moment of their lives. 

They’ve grown to call each other family, and it’s a dream come true, more than anything. But it’s also a bother, especially in times like these. 

It’s not easy. 

Not only because it requires Jisung to focus, but also Minho to speak up - and he’s never been good with words, with reasons. What he feels is shown upfront, he wears it proudly on his sleeve and gives it away when his dongsaengs need comfort. 

But it’s scary to show, and hard to imply through action. He’s tried one too many times, with lingering touches and urgent glances but it’s not helping. As if Jisung were blind to his calls. 

It… hurts. 

A lot, especially in moments like these. They are what keeps him up at night and urges him to finally _spit it out_ , without shame. It doesn’t help, and it only makes him feel worse for feeling this way, and for not being lucky enough to have it reciprocated. 

Which would be okay - it’s not like he can change it - but it doesn’t stop there. 

He knows Jisung doesn’t mean it seriously, knows he doesn’t do it for the purpose of making him feel bad. Nevertheless, it doesn’t make it easier to accept.

And he feels guilty because he should just let it go or shoot his shot. Being stuck in between hurt and hurt doesn’t lead anywhere, but he’s never been in a situation like this, and he didn’t expect it to be so hard to break out of. 

Maybe it wouldn’t if things weren’t so confusing. What does he gain from saying all of that, making Minho’s head dizzy? Why doesn’t he understand yet, how did he not notice? 

That Minho goes quiet and grows distant whenever the topic is brought up, that his arms become stiff when he beams at the others even as he melts into Minho’s chest. 

He’s never been the one to be jealous. Still, he would confidently call himself Jisung’s closest friend - they understand each other on a level Minho never thought he’d experience. That’s something he never wants to change, too precious to him. 

So… he might be a little possessive. At least it doesn’t go past his own head, where his thoughts are free to mourn and turn into unnecessary worries. It’s not like they would have any power, spoken out loud - but they sure are sharp, so they’re better kept away. 

And so he keeps them away. 

  
  
  


Jisung’s body pressed against him is warm. The covers are trapping warmth underneath, and it makes winter more bearable when the heating pad is turned on - but this one is mostly Jisung’s doing. 

Their limbs are entangled, arms wrapped around each other’s chests, Jisung’s face resting in the crook of Minho’s neck. The warmth that spreads through Minho comes from the proximity, the tenderness of the moment, and the feelings that bloom in his chest. 

Jisung shouldn’t know about those. 

They are a bother, more than anything, a burden he must carry until it fades away or takes him apart. Whichever comes sooner is the better alternative. 

Because being stuck in between hurts - and it hurts a little less with Jisung pressed into his side, breath fanning over the skin on his neck and collarbones, but it never stops. 

It won’t, at least not until a change is made, and Minho doesn’t like changes - what they have now has always been enough, so it should be more than enough now, too. 

...Right? 

“Hyung, you’re so comfortable,” Jisung mumbles out sleepily, voice rough from not being used for too long. It sends shivers down his spine, to hear the low rumble echo against him. 

Minho’s arms squeeze around him. He’s tired. “If that continues with poking fun of me for gaining weight, cut it out.” 

“No, not at all,” the younger grumbles. “I’m complimenting you, not teasing.” 

Minho hums in answer. 

It isn’t rare that Jisung gives out compliments - he’s generally loud and very kind to everyone, especially Minho, in moments like these. When there’s no one but them around, and his voice is hushed and his touch gentle. 

That is really the only moment Minho feels comfortable with being vulnerable - wrapped in darkness and silence that holds him together even under the pressure of his words. 

It helps more than being around people, where every sound is too loud to Minho’s ears, and every other person around is an element who can tear down his defences before he’s ready. 

And still, it feels almost impossible to say out loud. 

“You might be an even better bed than Hyunjin,” Jisung concludes, and it isn’t meant personally, yet it twists Minho’s stomach. 

It shouldn’t hurt. 

But it does.

Jisung used to call them soulmates - those should stay together no matter what, being bound by the universe or whatever. Being romantic isn’t his forte, but the premise is tempting. 

Nothing in life is definite, there is no guarantee they will come true. But their relationship is special, and Jisung has to understand that much. Too bad he doesn’t feel the same. 

  
  
  


It’s always exciting to be paired together, whatever the activity. It doesn’t mean anything, but any small sign from the universe that they shall remain as a duo brings a spark of warmth to Minho’s heart. 

It doesn’t mean anything, but Jisung’s private smiles and the sensation of his friendly touches, as they stay back while other teams compete, do. At least to Minho - and that’s what matters here. 

Maybe it matters to Jisung, as well. 

He beams at Minho with the brightest smiles whenever they score a point, squeezes his arm and shoulder and thigh and wherever they’re touching, laughs into his ear endearingly. 

It surely does - just not in the way Minho hopes for. 

But that’s fine. 

As long as Jisung lingers by his side, and hangs from his every word even when Minho’s heart is beating loud enough to process what he’s saying, it’s fine. 

As long as Jisung seeks him out for comfort and to chase away boredom, talking about everything and nothing, it’s fine. 

As long as he doesn’t think of others, it’s perfect - but that has never been true. 

  
  
  


The lyrics are wistful, yet they provide relief. Because he now has a reason to pour the feelings out, although they’re not really his - Changbin’s sentimental side has never been his favourite, but he can’t deny how fitting those lines are. 

It isn’t his story, but he’s going to pour his everything into it. 

And when they’re asked to choose roles, discussing the MV with their staff, it is only his pleasure to stand against who hurts the most. It’s not Jisung. 

It isn’t, because he can’t blame the younger. He doesn’t blame anyone in particular, other than himself - who else is responsible for his own failure? 

But there _is_ one person in particular who makes things worse without meaning to. 

The one person who probably doesn’t even care, because to him, it’s no more than just a game. The one person who would probably cry if he knew about Minho’s feelings, both for being touched and because he’s empathetic. 

And Minho is, well, _just_ pathetic. 

Maybe he should have picked Jisung to play against him, letting him see what goes through his head when it happens, each time. He _did_ suggest to replace the actress with one of the members, but it was quickly dismissed as a joke. 

The younger doesn’t deserve that, though. He shouldn’t know, not even try to personify how it feels to be the second option. Having him in between the drama would at least look realistic - but it doesn’t happen for obvious reasons.

  
  
  


Watching movies with Jisung is both a blessing and a curse. It serves as another excuse to pull the younger against his chest, seated into his lap, arms wrapped around his lithe body. 

It also means either horror movies - which Minho prefers for the sheer lack of feelings and an opportunity to become even cuddlier than normally - and romantic dramas. 

And romantic dramas, well, _are_ about feelings that are too familiar to Minho. Or at least they _try_ to portray a relationship that appears precious and would remind him of what he cannot reach, as long as it’s with Jisung.

Which is sad, because he only wants it to happen with Jisung. 

“They should really just talk about it,” Jisung sniffles into his shoulder. Minho hasn’t been paying attention to the build-up - it’s cheap, and thinking about Jisung is easier - but the younger is already invested. “How could she not notice yet?” 

He wonders, sometimes, too. 

“Some people are oblivious,” Minho answers calmly. His voice comes out strained and too high, but it’s muffled by Jisung’s hair, so it should be fine. 

The younger smells like strawberries, and he knows it’s Felix’s shampoo and not his. Jisung’s shampoo smells like honey, and it quickly became one of Minho’s favourite smells.

“I would know,” he knows Jisung is pouting for the way his syllables stretch, “but that’s a whole another level.” 

“You are a whole different level,” he returns, chuckling. 

And he means it. 

It’s difficult not to think about Jisung when he’s _right here_ , pliant and content with being touched, and when the main leads are kissing _right there_ on the screen. 

He still thinks the drama is too cheesy - but it would be nice if it were that easy. 

A world where his feelings wouldn’t hurt and words wouldn’t choke him. A storyline in which Jisung is just as hopelessly into him, for no other reason than that the screenwriters said so. 

Actually, it would be perfect if Jisung _had_ another reason than just being given that role. 

But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t even have a role because who is Minho to ask for labels. 

They are friends, they are soulmates. 

That’s where the line is drawn.

  
  
  


What if it isn’t? 

What if there is no line, just darkness blinding Minho’s eyes that he’s scared to step forward? 

It isn’t likely but sometimes - when Jisung stays awake at night to send him funny cat videos, or when he finds the younger asleep in his bed while waiting for him to come home, or when the younger knowingly uses his favouritism against him - he lets himself hope. 

That’s all he can really do, to project into his best friend and hope. 

Other times, it’s when someone brings it up and makes Minho temporarily believe that he’s the oblivious one. Changbin sounds so genuine when he talks about Jisung’s admiration for him, but even he cannot prove that he’s not wrong. 

Minho asks for reassurance, and Changbin squeezes his hand in response. “It’ll come eventually, don’t lose hope.” 

Minho doesn’t. 

Because Changbin knows Jisung the longest, and while he likes to think _he_ knows Jisung the best, the years on end are hard to catch up to. He understands Jisung beyond possible, but there is so much more he has to learn. 

“The best thing you can do is to ask,” the rapper repeats every time. “Jisung doesn’t mind questions, and you don’t have to connect the dots.” 

“What if he realises?” is too much of a weak excuse. 

“Then you’ll have your answer, and you can move on,” Changbin answers softly as if the words could break Minho - they probably will. “With or without him.” 

It is a price he must pay, one day. 

Eventually. 

  
  
  


It starts as no more than another day of nothing, an empty routine of the year carried out and despised - and Minho just happens to have feelings that make things livelier, even if not easier to cope with. 

The opposite, to be honest, with how much time they have to spend with each other at the dorms, no company activities until later notice. 

It makes the member antsy, asking for attention, and frustrated with everything. 

Minho doesn’t need this as an excuse to be frustrated, but he misses his cats more than usual, and the dorms are becoming too overwhelming to handle, with everyone’s activities limited to the usually not so small space.

He works out to relieve stress, something he has stopped doing for their tour, and he’s grateful for the small distraction. Then, he also sleeps a lot.

It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy messing around with the others, but the one he needs to take breaks from is usually around, too, and he copes by being funny. 

Minho doesn’t find the excessive flirting funny, not when directed at him - it reminds him that there is no difference in what Jisung feels towards him, it wouldn’t be so easy - and not when directed at others, because it feels like a betrayal. 

Fortunately, the younger doesn’t have a big social battery himself, and the private moments between them grow in number. It has never been weird to hang out in each other’s beds, and yet it feels different knowing that despite being overwhelmed, Jisung seeks him out. 

And when it happens to be just that moment, with the others occupying themselves with a movie or a dinner Jisung refused to eat, the silence between them makes Minho feel at ease, too. 

Maybe strong enough to take the step, even if the door to freedom is too far away to reach. 

“Jisungie?” he inquires, hesitantly.

The younger is talking about a game he’s been playing with Hyunjin for months now, one that Minho downloaded _just_ to steal that little attention back to himself. He’s talking about Hyunjin a lot lately, and it _does_ get on his nerve. 

Now, Jisung isn’t talking anymore, silently waiting for Minho to continue. 

It’s hard to do so, and at any other moment, he would have already backed away into the safety zone of teasing. And yet, for some reason, the moment feels right. 

He clears his throat and takes a breath. “Do you like him?” 

The wheels start turning in Jisung’s head, and he can exactly point out when the question fully settles and Jisung processes the words. It would be cute, at any other moment. 

“I- no,” he stumbles, cheeks heating up. 

_Then why?_

Wide eyes are staring at Minho from below, and it’s almost too cute to handle, if not for the fading fear of his answer. “I… don’t like anyone at the moment.”

Minho hums in acknowledgement - nothing else comes out of his mouth, throat stuffed with cotton and worries but now also relief and words he _won’t say yet._

Not say, maybe just scream out loud. 

A shriek of relief. Not a victory song, not yet, but it feels as if a weight has lifted from his shoulders, and his wings feel no longer too heavy to fly. 

Confident enough to _try_.

But he doesn’t, afraid to make Jisung flinch and back away. Instead, he pulls the younger closer into his chest, taking in the familiar warmth. Absorbing the smell of Jisung’s honey shampoo, aware of the arms that squeeze tighter around his waist and the heartbeat that echoes against his chest. Not nearly as hard, but equally as thrilling. 

No, he doesn’t have to try now. 

This is everything he’s asked for, they are back at the start line. The time will come when Minho will need to finally step forward and let himself known, but it doesn’t have to be now. 

And it _will_ be one day, now that he knows he isn’t a lost cause.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets... better.

It’s… not easy to hide. 

Not with how much time he spends with Minho every time he has an opportunity to linger around. Not with how easy it feels to just stare and think - and Jisung likes to think about feelings, to observe others, and to dream. 

It’s not that hard to name, at least. 

Although the feelings aren’t brand new, and it took a fair amount of time to accept them, he’s been quite fast to catch up to them before they spiralled out of control. 

That’s what helps him keep them, too scared of what would happen if he let them overflow. 

And overflow they would, as they threaten to spill past the verge every time Minho so much as breathes, giggles a little too close to Jisung’s ear, or when his fingers linger on Jisung’s waist for a moment too long to brush off without feeling his cheeks heat up. 

It used to be different. 

More about being friendly, and less about pushing boundaries until either of them bent out of shape. More about softly appreciating Minho’s presence from the sideline. 

Lately, it’s been about pushing Jisung in close enough to feel himself shatter little by little, hoping to catch every drop of tension before it seeps through his defences - but also about pushing Jisung away whenever he lets himself hope for the opposite. 

It used to be just them. 

And in Jisung’s heart, it will always be about  _ just  _ them, more than the others. Because to him, Minho is more than just a teammate. A  _ soulmate,  _ one that is bound to stay. 

Whether it means finding a happy ending, or supporting Minho with his future away from him. It shouldn’t matter, as long as Minho is happy, but it’s hard not to be biased. 

It… hurts. 

Because all Jisung wants to think about is having Minho pressed against him, bound by the same destiny that led them together in the first place. If the said destiny has other plans, though, there’s nothing to change about it. 

It seems to be that way, with Minho pushing him around and out of reach whenever he dares to hope - at least most of the times. It makes Jisung appreciate the silent nights when Minho truly lingers by his side even more. 

And that hurts, too, because it’s always the nights alone that bring Minho out of his shell. As if the loneliness of the moment were the only reason for him to hold on. 

He wishes for a difference, he wishes he could just share his feelings with Minho and get an answer, although he knows it will hurt. Moving on is painful, but it’s a clear direction, instead of spinning in circles, head swimming from every little gesture. 

And he’s tired from all the running. 

When nothing else seems to help, he copes - by being light-hearted about the topic, flirting with others, and avoiding the confrontation at any rate. Minho follows suit with the latter. 

But sometimes… sometimes he wonders. Why doesn’t Minho see the best in him? 

It’s hard to miss when Minho’s eyes seek him out across the room, burning into him until he meets them, curious of what emotion is hidden underneath. Maybe he’s hopeless, but the trace of fondness makes him dizzy. 

And still, the older sees him as nothing but a brother. 

Which is enough, it really is - it always had been, his feelings shouldn’t change that. 

Yet, the sparkling hope that flutters in his heart whenever Minho becomes a little too soft never dies down. A hitch of his breath, the colour of his cheeks heating up at the attention. 

Why hasn’t he noticed yet? 

Maybe it’s for the better, though. The last thing he wants is to bother the older with his useless heart, to make him worry,  _ to pity him.  _

It’s much better if Minho keeps on smiling, although without him. Because Minho’s smile is possibly the prettiest thing in the world, and he would break knowing he’s the cause of taking it away. He’d much rather bite his tongue and watch from afar. 

If he ends up hurt - that’s his own problem. 

  
  
  


He hates the tears.

Streaming down his face in warm streaks and dripping down his chin and cheek onto the pillow he’s burried himself into. 

His body isn’t shaking as much as it was earlier; he’s taken his meds and eventually, the stress dissipated, but it left him vulnerable. He’s used to having someone around when he feels this way, but he doesn’t dare to come out of his room. 

It’s easy to play it off to the earlier breakdown, but who is he to lie. It’s not like he can just tell the others about what he feels, though. 

They wouldn’t understand - and that’s fine, because there is nothing to understand. 

So selfish, too demanding, why can’t he just accept what’s real? 

How could he, if dreaming makes it seem so close to reach. It’s his own fault to keep himself stuck in between, but if the answer means being shred to pieces, he might as well stay. 

Even if he manages to patch himself up again, he doesn’t want it to be worth it. 

It would mean he has failed, all these months - no, years - spent lying to himself about how important Minho is to him. 

He doesn’t want to move on, even if it means bearing the burden of pain. 

  
  
  


But maybe he doesn’t have to end up broken. 

At least that’s what he tells himself in moments like these, Minho’s arms wrapped around his waist to pull him into his chest. The heartbeat underneath echoes the same melody as his, and Minho’s breath in his hair puts him to ease. 

It’s what he fears of losing the most. 

The tender moments between him and Minho, hidden away in a silent room when no one else is watching, when no one is around to judge. 

He loves these moments, when Minho belongs to him, and only  _ him.  _

Usually, the older distracts himself from being vulnerable, and Jisung respects the need of privacy - it only makes moments like these more precious. But right now,  _ right here _ , something about him makes Jisung feel safe, and he knows it has the same effect on Minho. 

It’s like he could finally say what he feels, if only he keeps it quiet enough. 

But it’s all too much - and instead, his mouth resorts to betraying him, bringing up his teasing front. Minho looks visibly upset about the change in the atmosphere, and all Jisung can do is to cringe at himself, but the harm has been done. 

  
  
  


It’s always like this, when he wants to open up. 

And it’s frustrating, because Jisung is supposed to be  _ good  _ at verbal communication, everyone agrees that he has an exceptional way with words, whether it’s smooth replies, flirting or writing lyrics. 

Why is it so hard with Minho? 

Instead, he works hard to show what he feels through what Minho understands the best. And while his impulsive actions make things more confusing than anything, he hopes he can get the message through. 

Minho never notices, though. 

It’s not like the older  _ knows  _ he should be looking for a message. 

It’s not like he would  _ care  _ to find it, if Jisung told him so. 

It’s not like it would  _ change  _ the way he feels, because at the end of the day, Minho doesn’t love him the way he does. And that’s how the truth is. 

...Right? 

For one, it wouldn’t be so  _ hard  _ to get through if Minho were looking for the same feelings. 

  
  
  


It shouldn’t hurt him. 

But it does. 

To see Minho look away every time he catches him staring, pretending he wasn’t watching him play around with the rest. 

He used to think Minho wants to join into the fun, but he seems to be more uncomfortable than anything, fidgeting and looking for excuses to either disappear or drag Jisung away with him. Funny, that it makes him feel wanted. 

It makes him try to reach out to Minho privately. The older agrees, softly, each time Jisung proposes to spend time with him. 

Being caught in the storm of the outside world, trapped in their dorms is exhausting, but it makes for an excuse to hang out more, which Minho appreciates at least half as much. 

Their movie nights and cuddling sessions become more frequent. 

Minho becomes closer than he’s ever been, touchy and gentle and too much - too close to pretend he wants to stay away, too happy to pretend it doesn’t mean anything. 

Jisung is happy, truly happy, with how it’s going. 

Although Minho doesn’t say anything about them, although he doesn’t make it easier on his heart. Having him around, for himself only, is enough to make him feel content. 

  
  
  


Sometimes, he wonders how the world would look if they weren’t made to break. 

Not much different, on the outside - still the same dormitory room, still the same shared goal ahead of them, and the same soft smiles reserved for Jisung whenever he isn’t looking. 

And  _ so much different  _ on the inside - knowing what it feels like to be embraced with love, knowing the patterns on Minho’s skin and having a hand to hold when life becomes too much. 

Minho is  _ too much,  _ most of the time. Not easy to handle in general, not easy to read and predict, though Jisung would like to say he’s an expert by now. 

And yet, there’s one thing he’s missing. 

One answer. 

  
  
  


Why, though. It shouldn’t be so hard to figure out, Minho wears his heart on his sleeve without meaning to, most of the time. Why can’t he understand this one, too? 

Why does it matter? 

Minho is his own person, with his own vision of a perfect life, and he can’t expect himself to be a part of the picture. Maybe it’s all the pictures Minho takes of him secretly that make him believe he belongs to his side. 

And he does - just not in the way he’d love to. 

And he will stay by his side, no matter what, even if he has to witness Minho finding happiness elsewhere. 

Actually… he  _ might  _ bat an eye on the moments that will hurt them most. 

Because he’s weak, even after everything he’s been through. 

  
  


_ Why? _

Minho should have pushed him away entirely a long time ago, being the annoying dongsaeng that he is. Minho should have already figured him out, and sent him away. 

(And he  _ will,  _ once he knows the truth.)

_ He  _ should have already swallowed his pride, yet he can’t bring himself to open his mouth. 

_ Why?  _

  
  
  


“Why?” he breathes out, barely louder than a whisper yet he knows Minho hears him. 

The older stiffens, and it hurts, even such a simple gesture. But he’s still as warm as ever, and he doesn’t pull away, so Jisung wraps Minho’s hands around him more securely. 

“Would that matter to you?” comes out raspy, as if he weren’t ready to talk about it just yet. 

He isn’t — but he needs to hear it. 

Whatever happens, Minho must be the one to  _ say it out loud _ because Minho is safe, he has nothing to screw up, unlike Jisung. Minho must know that he’s free to say anything to him — and Jisung knows it  _ should  _ work both ways, but the matter is too sensitive to count. 

“I like having you around,” the reply doesn’t make sense, not to Jisung. Not when it’s Minho who pushes and pulls as he likes - Jisung is the one desperately chasing after him. 

“That wouldn’t take me away,” he counters, not only because to him, liking someone equals liking Minho. It isn’t meant to be understood because it won’t be sympathised with. 

Minho doesn’t answer, but the action speaks louder. It  _ screams,  _ right into Jisung’s ear, when he feels the tip of Minho’s nose graze his shoulder. “I want to stay like this.” 

“Me too,” he says because he means it, “you’re warm,” he adds because it’s safer. 

But Minho doesn’t want to play safe, he doesn’t know he should. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Jisung does, so desperately. 

It will hurt. 

He’s not ready to be hurt, not when he feels so safe in Minho’s arms. 

“I want us to stay, forever,” Minho repeats, all echoed against his neck, and it makes him shiver. From anticipation, nerves, and proximity - when did he get so close? 

A long time ago. Jisung let him in with no second thoughts, too happy with having a soul so easy to be around, so familiar despite being new. He wonders if he knew how far they would go together, and what would be the cost. 

Even if he did, he wouldn’t want it to be different. They belong to the same picture. 

Maybe not into Minho’s, but surely into Jisung’s, and somewhere in the background of the others, a memory of the two of them will remain forever. But… maybe Minho wants him there, too.

“Me too,” he agrees, “with nothing in between.” 

It sounds weak - that’s how he feels, open and vulnerable, but Minho doesn’t pick him apart. 

In fact, he seems to want to embrace him and accept the confession, even if he doesn’t understand what it means. And… that’s enough. 

_ “No one  _ in between,” Minho nods slowly.

It tickles - both his skin where Minho nuzzles impossibly close and his chest where a single hopeful butterfly is born. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to everyone who decided to read this, it's not good and it technically isn't even meant to be but I wanted to let it out of my system. 
> 
> thank you for sticking by, I hope this chapter makes it less sad, although a little more confusing

**Author's Note:**

> Not all is good, but at least Minho has nothing to worry about now. 
> 
> To be continued...?


End file.
